


Big Guy

by snickering_lemon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Masturbation, Other, Prostate Massage, he gets fingered by bastion, i needed more sub reinhardt in my life and this sounded fun, the robot fucks him okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 21:12:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8593999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snickering_lemon/pseuds/snickering_lemon
Summary: Reinhardt's always wanted to get fucked by someone his size or bigger. Now, he has the chance.
He just has a bit of a hard time accepting that he's pining after Bastion, not knowing that the bot would be more than happy to indulge him on his fantasies.





	

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by some talking i saw on strawberryoverlord's blog about bastion/reinhardt smut. i never even thought of these two before but then i saw the light and realized i needed bastion/rein smut. so i wrote it. i had been hoping for this to be under 4,000 words lmfao

It’s a rarity to find anyone that could match Reinhardt’s size and height. Whether it be through height alone, or thickness alone, both proved near impossible to find in other people that could even begin to compare to the German man. Often times, he found pride in this fact. It felt good, to be looked up to for his size and strength, to be admired and reminded every day of his sheer growth.

When he had met Zarya, the elder man had originally seen her as nothing more but a potential friend. It was surprising to meet a woman of her size, and endearing as well. But he would be a fool to let that keep him from seeing her as anything but potential friend material. He had approached her, talked of things the two could relate to, it was fun.

But then came the challenge.

It was not a month after they met before Zarya challenged him to an arm wrestling competition. And she did so with determination etched into her expression, those dark eyebrows of hers lowered and a smirk at her lips.

Bah! It had made the man laugh, but not to mock the pink haired woman, exactly. He was just surprised. Nobody has ever requested a competition that tested one another’s strengths against him with anything other than the want to feel just how strong he was. To really feel it in person, and to, to put it lightly, get their ass kicked as soon as the match started.

This lady from Russia, however, had a fire in her eyes that told Reinhardt more than any words could. She wanted a challenge.

How long has it been since she has last met someone who could give her much competition in terms of muscle strength? Were the two of them aching for the same thing?

It seemed not.

On the day of the challenge, Reinhardt walked away as the victor.

Friendly punches were thrown, and both of their arms were aching. It was quite the match, the longest Reinhardt has ever been in, but he couldn’t help but have felt disappointed in the end.

That disappointment did nothing to simmer his excitement and hope, however.

After the arm wrestling match, Reinhardt had sought out the Russian woman, asking her if she would like to join him in his workout routine in the morning. She smiled and explained that while the offer was a tempting one, she would be busy with Mei that morning.

Looking between the stout Chinese girl and the muscular Russian girl, Reinhardt understood.

There was no chance of him getting anything more than friendship out of the woman. They still worked out together, and had plenty of competitions to test their strength against each other afterwards, but it still left Reinhardt _aching_ for something.

He couldn’t quite place his finger on it. He had thought that he desired to finally have someone match up to him, someone who could give him the same challenge Zarya sought out when she requested that arm wrestling match out of him, but that wasn’t it. It didn’t feel right.

It involved his libido, he knew that much.

Many nights, Reinhardt would run his large calloused hand down his hairy muscled belly, stroking those thick fingers of his into his graying patch of pubic hair and so slowly taking himself in hand. Innocent thoughts of fighting someone of equal strength turned red with lust when the elder man would imagine this imaginary person of strength outweighing him in size, weight, strength, and most importantly, power. Strong hands pushing him down, fighting him even in sex, fucking him with raw and sheer power.

These fantasies always ended the same.

The person would be holding his hips in a vice grip, bruising his flesh and brutally pounding into him. He’d tell them to slow down, warning them that he’s close, he’s so close. But instead of doing as he requests, they’d speed up, going harder than Reinhardt imagined possible, and with a gravelly voice they’d tell him that a beast like him can take it harder than this, that his hole can be stretched farther out than it already is.

In these fantasies, his hole was always stretched out into a bright red puffy mess, swollen around the dick filling him so deep, so good. Pre-cum and lube would be dripping from his needy cunt, trickling down his perineum, or down his balls if he’s taking it on his hands and knees.

And with these images in mind he’d cum hard into his fist, his other hand pressing his fingers teasingly against the pucker of his hole. He has never breached himself there before, but he has dreamt of being taken by the longest and fattest cock imaginable more times than he would ever wish to admit.

He has even bought himself a toy for fulfilling this dream of his. Two toys in fact. One with a suction base, thirteen inches in length and so thick that it felt weighty even in Reinhardt’s palm. The other was attached to a leather harness, meant to be worn by anyone who didn’t already have a cock of their own. Just like his suction based one, it was thick and long.

Reinhardt would hold one or the other, lick it, rub it against his posterior, but he has never willed up the nerve to put either inside of himself.

Despite the obvious signs, it wasn’t until nearly a year later of fantasizing and fucking his own fist that Reinhardt realized that what he really wanted was to be _dominated_. To be taken, touched in a way nobody would expect he’d want. Everyone makes jokes and jeers about him enjoying being the bigger in any relationship, flustering him when his ‘size’ was brought into question. But who would think that this large beefy man, who could crush bodies against his weight, would want to get fucked into a quivering mess?

No one except him, apparently.

When Roadhog came into the team, Reinhardt’s hopes began to flare. That was, until he found that the man was more interested in platonic things rather than sexual. It did not take a genius to find out that Roadhog’s diversions when it came to questions about his desire for a relationship or anything intimate with a person were driven by a lack of interest in the former mentioned.

Plus, the man was a bit of a criminal. That kind of dampened the mood a bit.

The only remaining person that could come close to what he was known best for wasn’t quite a person.

They were a bastion unit.

A cute little thing that would respond to every one of their bird’s tweet with a tweet of their own. A bastion unit with sentience that Reinhardt has never witnessed in one of their kind, the fingers of their own metal hand always twitching with the desire to touch everything in sight. It was with much scolding that the bot learned to not always touch everything they wanted. People especially.

But on occasion, the bastion unit couldn’t help but reach out and touch whatever object has captivated their interest. Sometimes it was someone’s hair. Other times it was another person’s prosthetic. Once it had been someone’s breast.

It was because of that last incident that it was agreed on by the whole team that Bastion never be allowed in either of the team showers.

It had originally upset the poor robot, but they got over it pretty quickly.

They were a bastion unit, named…Bastion.

And it flustered and shamed the German man so much to know that their team’s bastion unit was victim to his sexual desires. Granted, he would never act on it with the robot, God knows that the sweet thing has no idea that humans even have anything but smooth blank skin beneath their clothes. But with Bastion being the last one on the team that could match Reinhardt’s height (almost), the elder couldn’t help the intrusive thoughts that slithered into his mind on the nights that he’d filthily and sinfully touch himself.

But he’d be damned if he let his selfish desires get in the way of being the bastion unit’s friend. It was hard at first, considering that he fought a long and weary war against Bastion’s kind. PTSD made many things hard for the boisterous man, but it gave him comfort to know that Bastion too had similar struggles as he. Together, they worked to overcome their issues, even just by being around one another and interacting in a positive light.

Now, it was customary that Reinhardt spend at _least_ one day a week with the bot, wherever they pleased. Most often, Bastion would request that they sit together outside, so that their bird Ganymede had a chance to spread its wings and fly around in nature’s rich air.

Today was no different.

Ganymede had flown to a far off tree, picking at leaves and singing songs as Bastion and Reinhardt sat on a park picnic bench. They weren’t necessarily at the park, they had simply gone a few miles from the base in search of greenery. The picnic table was thanks to Reinhardt, who had constructed it solely for the purpose of sharing it with Bastion while they’d relax outside.

There was a comfortable silence between the two large figures, disturbed only by Ganymede’s singing voice and Bastion’s answering chirps. The bot was trying to sing with their bird. How charming. Reinhardt, meanwhile, indulged in eating his sandwich. He did so slowly, closing his eyes against the warmth of the sun against his skin and sighing in content at just how natural everything smelled.

Things were going good.

Bastion piped up, making the German man look to him.

Once they caught Reinhardt’s attention, the bot gave a series of beeps and tilted their head, reaching out to Reinhardt and pulling on his shirt.

Seems like today won’t go without the bastion unit sating their curiosity, it seems. But, then again, when did the bot ever choose to ignore their own curiosity?

“My shirt?” Reinhardt began, looking down at the fabric the other tugged at. It was a simple V-neck black shirt, tight on his physique. “What about it, mein friend?”

Another series of chirps and beeps, then Bastion gestured to their own chest, running their own hand down their chest and to their abdomen.

“You wish for a shirt of your own?” An amused grin began to tug at the edges of Reinhardt’s mouth, growing into a soft laugh when the Bastion nodded their confirmations. “I am afraid there is no shirt that can fit you properly.”

He should cringe when the bot starts to beep and chirp in clear agitation, their hand moving wildly down their own abdomen and then pointing at Reinhardt’s own, but he doesn’t. Instead he laughs again and holds his hands up defensively, amused when the bastion unit’s loyal bird friend returns to check up on the situation between the two of them.

“My shirt is tight even on me, Bastion. I do not think it would survive going past your chest.”

At the mention of Bastion’s chest, they look down, tilting their head this way and that as if sizing themselves up. That bright blue optic of theirs gazed at their own chest, then at Reinhardt’s, then back to their own, and once more back at the other man’s. It took a moment, but Bastion reached out and pressed their hand against the German’s chest, their little chuff coming out high pitched.

Reinhardt was silent, looking down at the hand on his chest curiously, not saying anything yet. He was not too sure what his friend was trying to convey here, so he waited for the other to further clarify. Bastion made several hand motions and accompanying chuffs and beeps and boops of several pitches, that metal hand returning to touch the elder’s toned chest before fleeing and touching Bastion’s own.

Then, at the end of their little monologue, they pressed their hand palm side down against their “chin”, their fingers bending multiple times at the knuckle. It was only then that Reinhardt could slowly piece together the bits of Bastion’s foreign speech.

“Roadhog? Roadhog’s shirt?” Bastion nodded, eager, before cocking their head in a puppy-tilt. “Ah! You wish to know why the man does not wear a shirt.” Another nod, and Reinhardt couldn’t help but laugh at the purity and childlikeness of his friend’s questions. “Why, it is simply because he does not wish to wear a shirt. The same applies to his…..friend. The two Junkers.”

Bastion beeped a few times and pointed at him.

“I, however, enjoy wearing a shirt. It can make me look nice.” He sat tall at this, striking a confident and attractive pose. A chuckle rose from deep within him when Bastion gasped and brought a hand to their face, feigning shock and awe at the man’s striking pose.

Or maybe the shock and awe was real with his friend? He could never tell.

Ganymede responded to the gasp by flying the short distance from the picnic bench table top to Bastion’s shoulder, looking between Bastion and Reinhardt.

“But,” Reinhardt continued, growing lax once more and scratching at the nape of his neck. “-if it proves to be too hot, I will usually remove my shirt. To cool myself down.”

Bastion shortened the distance between the two of them, chirping and speaking in those cute little computer-like noises of theirs. The man hadn’t the faintest idea what the bot was saying, until they began to “speak” slower and reached out to run their hand down Reinhardt’s collar bone and over the slope of his breast.

The gray haired man’s adam’s apple bobbed, and Bastion gave the already too-tight shirt a tug.

‘You would look nice without the shirt.’

Carefully, Reinhardt placed his hand over the metal one toying with his shirt, pushing it away and placing it on the picnic table top. His cheeks were just beginning to burn, shame nipping him at the back of his mind. Why does he turn his friend’s innocent words perverse?

“You must be careful with how you use your hands, Bastion. Many meanings can be taken from the gestures you do.” Despite his rising discomfort, Reinhardt still smiled.

The bastion unit, however, found the poor man’s words to only be an invitation to further clarify. So they shook the large hand off of their own and held up a finger, their little noises coming out much slower. As if they expected Reinhardt to understand the meaning behind each individual sound. He didn’t, but he listened anyways, watching the bot.

Again, that hand returned to Reinhardt’s chest, only this time their index finger traced a large heart over the expanse of his breasts. He could feel the sun on his back, high above, but it felt as if it were shining on his face instead.

“Bastion,” Reinhardt gave an embarrassed chuckle, his hands fisted against his thighs. “-do you just wish to see me without my shirt?”

He was gifted a series of beeps in the affirmative.

That…was innocent enough, yes? They have only ever seen Roadhog and Junkrat’s upper bodies exposed, and their shape and form and size contrast so starkly against one another. Roadhog’s large, meaty, swollen belly and rounded breasts, compared to Junkrat’s flat and toned abdomen, chest as flat as wood. It was only natural that Bastion wanted to see a third person like that, to see just how different humans can come to be.

It was with this thought process that Reinhardt looked around on the unlikely chance that anyone else would be intruding. When he spotted no one, thick fingers hooked into the bottom rim of his shirt, beginning the slow process of removing this innocent piece of clothing.

The man nearly got himself caught stuck in his shirt when Bastion gave him a noise that could only be described as a wolf-whistle. His face burned and he opted for ripping his shirt right over his head, foregoing the careful process.

In having his hair pretty and long, and his beard at equal length, Reinhardt liked to pretend sometimes that his beard and long haircut made him seem more like the lions he so dearly loves. A white mane of his own, soft and beautiful.

He knew that at this very moment, it was anything but. With how he ripped his shirt off of himself and scratched his own face with it, his hair was standing this way and that, far too tousled for his own liking.

“Wh-Where exactly did you learn to make that noise?”

Bastion shrugged to their best ability, seemingly not finding it as important as Reinhardt did as to where they got the knowledge to whistle in such a manner whilst someone is undressing themselves. What they did find important is the exposed flesh of Reinhardt’s upper body, another appreciative noise leaving them as they took in the sight.

There was not a single spot on the man’s abdomen that wasn’t covered in some layer of hair. His breasts were the same, hair darkening in the crease of his chest, leading downwards to his navel and disappearing below the rim of his pants.

He looked absolutely fuzzy.

An embarrassed laugh left the man when Bastion crossed their arms, left over the right, and repeatedly flexed the fingers of their left hand, above their right shoulder. They sounded happy and excited.

‘Teddy bear.’

Reinhardt ducked his head.

Before he could make an attempt to brush his own embarrassment off, Bastion leaned right in and went to stroking Reinhardt’s chest, crooning at the soft feel of the hair on his body. Every one of his muscles grew stiff as Reinhardt tensed when those curious fingers went from gently stroking the man’s hairy chest to following the thick, wide trail down his abdomen, and before he knew it, soft metal fingers were trying to pull the rim of his pants away from the front of his body to locate where exactly this hairy trail ended.

Both let out a cry of alarm when Reinhardt sprung up from his seat. Bastion sat straight, their blue optic glowing all the brighter as they tilted their head back to look the other man in the eye from where he now stood tall, casting a shadow over the large bastion unit. Reinhardt snatched his shirt close to his chest, fingers trembling as he spoke, the smile at his lips forced.

The robot was still at a good height compared to him even when sitting.

“The day was lovely with you as always, my friend, but I have some business to attend to now. I have only just remembered it. Please, excuse me. You can come find me anytime.”

\----------------

What a foolish man he is.

He had left to prevent the situation from escalating further, but where exactly would it have escalated to? The bastion unit has no means of reproducing, and as far as Reinhardt is concerned, the robot does not even know the meaning of the word and doesn’t even know that it’s not only sleeping that humans use bedrooms for. If anything were to escalate, it would have been through faults of his own.

Guilt should be forcing him into lying in bed with nothing to do but wallow, reintroducing him to the realization of just how sick and twisted he could be.

With his cock buried deep in his fist and his hazy eyes shut closed, Reinhardt had anything but guilt on his mind. Intricate images of what could have been had he not stopped Bastion swarmed the depths of his imagination, had he just let the curious robot continue to explore whatever reaches of his body that they wished to discover.

Their time spent together was far from the sort of intimacy that Reinhardt lusted over, and yet, thinking back on how assertive Bastion had been with their curiosity, Reinhardt groaned. It was the beginning signs of just what the hulk of metal could do for him, to him.

Those steel fingers warm with the heat of the sun taking his soft penis in hand, touching it gently at first, and then _squeezing_ at random intervals when they find out just how nice it feels to touch it. How pliant it is in their hold, hurting Reinhardt with their inexperience in handling the more sensitive parts to the human body. Touching him like he was a new toy to the bot.

What a foolish man he was, to have let that golden opportunity slip by.

\----------------

Reinhardt awoke naked, just as he had fallen asleep the night prior. His body was urging him to get ready and start the day, but his eyes simply would not open and his mind would not start. The man was tired, he deserved the extra sleep. Especially after the stressful day he had just gone through.

The stirring hardness he felt in his dick was also cause to the man’s reluctance to fully awaken.

So he lay there, content to bask in the warmth of his twitching morning arousal, his blanket grasped loosely in his curled fingers, draped over his shoulders and down to his hips, but leaving everything below exposed. He closed his thighs around his slowly growing erection, squirming minutely, but doing nothing else to stimulate the interest his genitals held.

Like an old loved one, sleep began to embrace him one more, holding him comfortably and soothing him to unconsciousness.

Until Reinhardt registered that the pleasant feeling against his inner thighs was by an outside force not his own.

Stricken by alarm, Reinhardt flailed. His blanket was sent flying with his panic, only for his grasping and twitching fingers to grab it desperately and make a panicked attempt of covering himself. Both eyes, blue and white, were trained on the end of his bed.

There, sitting at the corner of his mattress, was Bastion. Right behind them was the door to Reinhardt’s dormitory, wide open and allowing any passerby to peer into the man’s bedroom all they wished. As the war machine always seemed to with Reinhardt, they watched him with intense curiosity and fascination.

“Mein Gott, Bastion! Schließe die Tür!” There was much going on that Reinhardt could not take in and react to all at once, but he knew once thing, and that was that he did not want anybody seeing him naked as he was. His arm gestured wildly towards the open door, his other hand holding the blanket against his body in a death grip.

Bastion seemed surprised by his alarm and moved with such speed to close the door that Reinhardt thought the bot shared the same kind of panic he had in the moment. He knew it to be impossible, however. Bastion was not the one in such an inconvenient situation.

With the edges of his eyes growing watery with the sheer heat in his face, Reinhardt spluttered and struggled between German and English, trying to communicate his thoughts to the bot that had returned to the edge of his bed, looking at him excitedly. It took a bit, but he finally managed a coherent enough sentence.

“Why are you coming to my room and no knock?” He knows he’s messing up on his English, but he can’t help it. Even a fluent English speaker would mess up if they were under the stress and pressure he was under. “How did you get in?” Surely he had locked the door the night prior? The elder man never indulged in his nightly routine without making sure thrice that the door was steadfast locked.

He wrapped his blanket tightly around himself now, feeling silly with how he must look.

Like they had done nothing wrong, the Bastion began to answer, cutely beeping and making several hand motions before producing something so small in between their fingers that Reinhardt would have missed it had he not been actively trying to look at it.

A bobby pin, bent in several places.

“You picked my lock!” It was not even a question, the gray haired man’s eyes as wide as can be, shoulders hunched up to his ears. “You picked my lock, how did you learn to pick my lock?!”

Just like when they had been questioned yesterday, Bastion simply shrugged.

Apparently the bastion unit was not a big fan on sharing the sources of where they got their information.

Reinhardt was beginning to suspect that perhaps Hana had something to do with teaching the robot these bad little habits. But while he was attempting to recollect his thoughts and recover from all that has happened under the span of the five minutes he has been awake, Bastion made their move and grew closer to the larger man, reaching under the blanket like they were free to do so and stroking the shockingly warm metal of their hand against Reinhardt’s muscled calve.

“Ah! No, your hand, it is warm!” The man jerked away from the bot’s gentle touch, comically falling over the edge and fruitlessly struggling to keep himself as covered as possible as he scrambled to stand up. “You’ve been touching me all morning?!”

Only now did the war unit begin to look uncertain, their head ducking minutely as they faintly looked around the room at the other’s question. They whirred their affirmative slowly, nodding carefully as if worried they would trigger another outburst in the other.

He wanted to ask why, but there was too much running through his mind to get even that simple question out from between his lips. Instead he continued to stand there, looking and feeling stupid as he tripped over several ‘I’s and shifted like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

His lungs expanded with a shaky breath, blind and working eye closing in the old man’s attempts of calming down.

This was Bastion, the robot with a bird for a best friend and love for the majority of their team mates. They were doing this with innocent curiosity and meant no harm. Reinhardt had to remember this.

The beat of his heart took its time slowing down to a pace that had the man feeling less like he was seconds away from dying, but when it did, Reinhardt heaved a shaky sigh and stood straight once more, offering the concerned robot a weak and tired smile.

“Bastion, my friend…you have many ways of surprising a man like me.” He has calmed enough to realize he does not necessarily need to cover his _entire_ body. The blanket is wrapped around his hips, much like he would with a towel after bathing. “But, why have you come here so early in the morning?” Though he knew that the robot was aware which room was his, not once before have they ever come to visit. So why now?

A high pitched whine left the bot, their hand now tracing patterns into the sheets of the bed below them. It reminded Reinhardt too much of an upset puppy. They lifted their hand, seemingly ready to speak in ASL, until they paused abruptly. They tried to remember the particular gesture for the word they had in mind, but could not seem to find it. So they compromised by pointing at Reinhardt, then making a little walking gesture with their index and middle finger, and ending it with another whine.

Ah. Yes. That.

“Bastion…” The weak smile at his lips disappeared, his large hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “I- well.” Should he even try explaining it to the robot? He felt that if he even started to explain how and why the bastion unit had made him overwhelmed and semi-uncomfortable with pulling his pants aside, that it’d lead them to asking why that made them uncomfortable, and then why the exposure of his lower half was that bigger of a deal than with his upper half, and so forth.

Too much explaining that Reinhardt didn’t even know how to do.

Looking down at the soft blanket around his hips and up to the team’s sentient walking and talking turret, Reinhardt chewed on the chapped skin of his bottom lip.

“Do you wish to see me naked?”  His face contorted in a wince at the bluntness of his question, but, he felt that if he finally gave the robot what they wanted, the incidents where Bastion embarrasses him and tries to get him undressed in public will lessen considerably.

Their question quickly forgotten, Bastion squealed and whirred in excitement, nodding vigorously and scooting up further onto the bed, moving closer to Reinhardt. Already they were reaching out for the blanket with their one hand, chuffing in satisfaction to finally be offered what they have been wanting for so long.

“Easy, easy. Let me do it.” The distance between the two grew marginally when the taller of the two stepped back, strong hands holding the hem of Reinhardt’s blanket around himself. Was he really going to do this?

He could be doing the team a favor. Maybe this will calm the bot’s constant and curious touching.

At a molasses pace, he began to loosen the hold on his blanket, cautiously unwrapping it.

There was nothing perverse about this, not at all. Reinhardt would be lying if he said he didn’t wonder about any omnic or robot’s insides and whether they have genitalia of their own, or what their inner workings look like. What it was that gave them sentience. This was for educational purposes only, to sate Bastion’s desires of seeing a human fully naked.

It took a few trembling, anxious breaths, but soon the blanket meets the floor.

Reinhardt knew damn well that Bastion didn’t breathe, but he couldn’t help the increase in pace of his heartbeat when he hears the large robot give a gasp of appreciation.

They’re so unbearably close, and though Reinhardt isn’t looking down at his robotic friend, he knows that they’re as close as can be without letting their body touch him.

And just as he had let them do when he showed them his chest, Bastion began to touch.

Relieving enough for Reinhardt, Bastion decided to start off touching the thick and hard muscles of the German’s thighs, squeezing the flesh of his thighs as if trying to locate a more pliant spot. Just like his chest, his thighs are coated in thick short hairs, soft to the touch and appealing to the eye.

Or in Bastion’s case, the optic.

Where Reinhardt assumed Bastion would be rough, the robot was actually fairly gentle, even cautious almost, as if afraid to somehow frighten or hurt the source of their attention. The pads of their fingers slide down pale skin, pressing down gently when they reach the side of the knee, then trailing all the way up to the man’s surprisingly slim hips. They cup his hip, pressing their thumb into the dip of his hip and massaging the flesh, looking between where they touch and Reinhardt’s face. Watchful for any signs of discomfort.

Still, he looks away, cheeks flushed and hands clenched into fists. At the sound and feeling of Bastion sliding closer to him and off of the bed, the German is forced to look at his visitor, going wide eyed when he feels the hand at his hip grow firmer and more demanding, switching their positions and guiding Reinhardt into sitting at the edge of his bed. He thinks that’s it, but no, the hand is at his shoulder now, pushing insistently.

“Bastion-,” He tries, but is silenced when that hand moves only to wave dismissively in his face, and then he is shoved onto his back. The air in his lungs is expelled in a quivering breath, nerves aflame and soft cock beginning to take interest in the turn of events. His meaty paw of a hand is brought down in a weak attempt to cover his crotch up, but Bastion is not having any of it and patiently sets his hand aside with a series of beeps and chuffs that Reinhardt can only assume resemble words of comfort and assurance. It is only after watching Reinhardt for any signs of further attempts of modesty that, once they decide the man won’t try again, Bastion returns their attention to the strong thighs before them, stroking and squeezing.

His eyes are squeezed closed again, beating heart hammering in his ears and his adam’s apple bobbing repeatedly with every dry swallow. He’s facing the ceiling, and although he had allowed this to happen, he still can’t believe that _this_ is actually happening. He wants to say that the way his legs twitch and spread to reveal more for the bastion unit to tamper with is involuntary, but just like how Bastion pushed him back, he knows he’s doing it of his own accord.

It works. Bastion looks between the man’s legs, cooing at the newly exposed flesh that’s crafted in a way they have never seen human flesh like before. But it seems Bastion knows a thing or two about patience and priorities, because they ignore the oddest mound of flesh of them all in order to nudge Reinhardt into lifting his hips. He does so, arching into the air for the bot, and hisses out a hot breath when Bastion reaches under him and squeezes one of his ass cheeks.

It too is well toned, but it has much more give than any body part Bastion has felt on the large man yet. They’re delighted about this, if their high pitched excited beeping is any indicator, and they spend the next few minutes massaging and pinching and playing with the flesh of Reinhardt’s ass.

Lifting his hips up and keeping himself on his tip-toes is nothing compared to the more laborious work that Reinhardt has to do on base, especially when more than half of his weight is supported by the mattress below him, but with the robot feeling him out, he can’t stop the way his thighs begin to quiver and spread further apart.

Reinhardt _gasps_ when Bastion’s wandering and curious fingers finally find the pucker of his hole, a shaky and embarrassingly desperate sound. The robot tilts their head, the bulk of their chest touching each of Reinhardt’s inner thighs as they lean forward and look down at the smooth and hairy expanse of a stomach below them, as if they can look through his body and find out what exactly it is they’re feeling out that is so hot and feels so unlike the rest of the surrounding flesh Bastion had been groping.

Intrigued, Bastion removes their hand from underneath Reinhardt’s body, reaching up to tap his shoulder and then taking his left hip in hand and nudging him upwards. Reinhardt pulls himself further up the bed, leaving enough room for Bastion to climb up and join him. A surprised noise leaves him when Bastion immediately grabs his leg and folds it up to his chest, doing the same to the other one and then grabbing him by the hip and pulling him close, then upwards into their lap. Humiliation keeps Reinhardt warm when his legs are then placed on either of Bastion’s wide shoulders knowing very will that the robot has a clear and perfect view of everything he has to offer.

Bastion makes a noise that can only be described as a pleased sigh, reaching back between his legs with their one hand and using the arm that ends with a gun nozzle to stroke up and down the outside of Reinhardt’s right thigh. They try to return to feeling between the elder’s cheeks, tracing the ring of muscle with two thick fingers, but then decide that feeling isn’t enough and that they need the visual as well.

They don’t even have to ask after removing their fingers again, Reinhardt knows and wants it too, wants to better expose himself to the robot. So he reaches up, spreading himself and breathing hard with just how excited this is getting him already. The mass of his cock matches the strength of his breathing. Hard and needy, lying flat against his belly as gravity forces him to look at it whenever he blinks his eyes open. They’re staying closed for shorter and shorter periods of time now, addicted to watching the awe Bastion holds in their actions.

Sure enough, their fingers return to his hole, tracing and pinching the outer ring.

Is this still under the excuse that he’s doing this for Bastion? That he’s doing it to let Bastion know what a human male in the flesh looks like?

Reinhardt looks away, directing his helplessly lustful gaze towards the door to his room.

It was never for that reason and he knows it.

But so long as Bastion continues to enjoy themselves, Reinhardt is damn well going to keep lying to himself.

His gaze on the door is torn away so he can arch his back and press against those fingers as they try to press inside, a curious whir leaving the bot when they realize there is a way in. It hurts, especially when the robot continues to try and press their dry fingers inside, two at once. But complaining is the last thing on Reinhardt’s mind. Unfortunately, his body does the protesting for him, refusing to allow the bastion unit entrance.

They make a noise like a hum, returning to simply rubbing their fingers against the hole, until they notice the wetness leaking from the man’s cock and onto his abdomen. Though their fingers stay pressing against the man’s anus, they pay all of their attention to the reddened member, watching as it twitches on occasion and more of the clear fluid dribbles from the tip. A single blip leaves them, and then they’re taking Reinhardt in hand, moving his cock so it’s pointed up where Bastion can watch the source of the leaking fluid.

They’re almost startled at the noise that comes from the crusader, not missing how his hips give the barest of thrusts into their touch before stilling as much as possible. Testing, they give the hot length a squeeze. The reaction is immediate, Reinhardt tilting his head back and groaning quietly with his hips twitching with the desire to thrust into that hold. The red in his face has spread down to his chest, burning him up.

Never has Bastion ever witnessed Reinhardt look and react like this. He gets just as red when doing his training, yes, but the look on his face is far different than when he is working.

His eyebrows are drawn up and his pupils are barely hidden behind thick lashes, Bastion wants to reach up and press their fingers into the small gape of the man’s open mouth. But they don’t, they keep squeezing Reinhardt’s erection, watching him squirm and use their shoulders for leverage to jerk into the robot’s grasp.

Learning from the flustered German’s hip motions, Bastion tries to replicate it, carefully moving their hand up and down the heavy twitching arousal.

“G-Gott Bastion, _yes_.” The sheets are twisted in his grip, throat bared to the bot as he rotates his hips into the touch, both leaning into that heavenly stroking steel hand and grinding his ass against the downwards slope of Bastion’s chest, wishing for that contact against his entrance to return. He can feel his dick twitch with every eager spurt of pre-cum, coating the metal fingers around him and slickening their strokes.

Bastion seems to have a new goal in mind, though Reinhardt can’t even bring himself to care about what it is because although the rest of his dick is no longer receiving much attention, the head of his cock is and Bastion is pressing their fingers right up against the small slit and is rubbing into it and he can’t hold on much longer. He had barely been touched but he doesn’t care, he’s going to cum and he can’t and wouldn’t even dream of trying to stop it.

“Bastion, Bastion-!” He presses into the bot’s fingers, swallowing each breath he takes and grunting when his cockhead slips between the gaps of Bastion’s fingers. He cums hard, breathing coming in short stuttering gasps and gravelly groans accompanying each breath. His cock flexes once, twice, thrice, four powerful times before settling down to small twitches that have Reinhardt shaking in ecstasy, gasping out when Bastion squeezes him from the base and drags their hand up to the tip with that same punishingly tight grip.

Curious, Reinhardt looks up at Bastion’s work, squirming and trying to get more stimulation to ride out the haze of his orgasm. At first, the man doesn’t understand. He think Bastion is cleaning him up, collecting his semen and various other fluids and rubbing it between their fingers.

But then he gets it, and when he does he moans outright and reaches back beneath himself, spreading himself for Bastion. He’s already spent, but he’d rather burn in Hell than let this opportunity go by.

His own cum is used for lube, smeared over his hole before Bastion tries once more to press inside of him, one finger this time. They’re more successful than before, slipping slowly within with the aid of Reinhardt’s slick and semen.

It hurts. Bastion’s fingers are large, and Reinhardt has never once had even a tiny pinky inside of him, but he doesn’t stop Bastion from pressing further. It hurts, but his cock still twitches in interest and begins to dribble fluid again. He tries his hardest to relax the muscles and make Bastion’s way inside easier for them, biting his bottom lip when he feels the walls of his anus flutter around the intruding finger.

Bastion coos, tilting their head and looking at the man with such awe and wonder and something else that Reinhardt is reluctant to believe is there at all. The way the bot is using the nozzle of their gun to stroke the thigh of his left leg with such tenderness just further has the man’s chest thump with the increase of his heartbeat, face burning up with his flush.

He tries to keep still, to cease the twitching and tightening of his legs around Bastion’s neck, but it proves to be quite a difficult feat to accomplish. His semen just barely provides enough lubrication for entrance at all, and it’s not too long after Bastion gets the entirety of their index finger that it starts drying up and leaving Reinhardt more uncomfortable than pleasured, even if he absolutely adores the burning stretch in his ass.

Bastion had been wiggling their finger around within Reinhardt, pressing hard against his walls and mapping out his insides and taking in the texture of everything. Despite the fact that they’re focusing so hard on feeling the man out, their optic never once looks away from Reinhardt. He can feel their gaze on his chest, his face, his stomach, his hands, and his cock. They keep looking at him, scanning his body all over for any reactions every time they press their finger this way and that. It’s when they start to slide their thick finger out that Reinhardt keens and drags Bastion closer against himself with his legs. Bastion is as close as can be, the metal of their chest pressing flat against Reinhardt’s lower back.

It’s warm against his skin, Reinhardt finds. Thrumming with more energy than usual.

“Bastion,” He starts, huffing out each breath and grunting when the finger slides back inside down to the last joint, sliding out slowly in the robot’s attempt to hear that noise from the elder again. “Bastion, are you enjoying this?” Maybe he had been wrong in assuming that Bastion couldn’t feel arousal?

He’s answered in short chuffs that can only be described as sinfully pleased, airy despite the bastion unit not even needing the stuff. The finger inside of him presses more insistently, pulling back and dragging the walls of his rectum with how _dry_ that finger is now.

What happened to his cum on that finger? How long has this been going on for?

“F-Fuck. Bastion, I-. Gott. It’s too dry.” He swallows hard, eyes blinking rapidly as he lifts his head up from his mattress and looks at the robot built for warfare kneeling between his legs, their finger up his ass. “I have lubricant, i-in my closet.”   His hair pools around him as he lets his head fall back against his sheets, eyes falling closed. “Use it, it will make this much easier.”

The robot looks to the closet, staring at it for a brief moment, but makes no move to get up and retrieve what is asked of them. They instead look back down at Reinhardt, silent, before returning to pressing their finger in and out of Reinhardt, dragging a hiss from the man and getting their wrist grabbed. But it’s not pushed away.

“You can put more in me once you get lubricant.” He assures them, trying to persuade them to take the time to get up and fetch the lube so that he doesn’t have to stop enjoying this.

Again, Bastion stays right where they are, but they at least remove their hand from inside of his ass. The stare into his face is almost uncomfortable, gone without a noise from the bot. Reinhardt hasn’t any idea what the robot is doing, but when he goes to ask and instead gets two fingers plunged into his now open mouth, the German man realizes that Bastion had been waiting for him to open his mouth for them.

He can taste himself on those fingers, tearing a moan from him as he eagerly laves his tongue over each digit, working on coating the steel of those fingers with a thick layer of drool. The weight of Bastion against his tongue is addicting, and he can’t hold back the embarrassing groan that leaves him when he feels Bastion thrust their fingers in and out of his mouth. He can only imagine that the lesson the robot is getting from this is that up and down and thrusting motions against the human body feels very nice for people.

Those fingers are as long as they are thick, and soon Reinhardt is gagging when the bastion unit shoves three fingers into his mouth, jabbing against the back of his throat and making his shoulders hunch as he retches against each prod.

Bastion would be worried, but a quick glance to the crusader’s cock tells them that he’s enjoying this just fine. More than just fine, even.

So they ignore the tears beading up at the edges of those pale eyes, only paying them any attention when they turn into streaks that fall with gravity, trailing down the highest point of his cheeks and then down the sides of his face and into his hair and ears.

They’ve leaned over him now, bending him in half with his knees touching his shoulders and their thick chest plate against his own, watching as his drool slips from around their fingers and runs down his chin, making a mess of himself. It almost hurts his eyes to look into the light of their optic so closely, but he does it anyways, blinking away watery tears that aren’t related at all to how he feels in this moment.

He gasps in a heavily needed breath of air when those fingers leave his mouth, licking his lips and breaking the string of saliva that connects his mouth to Bastion’s fingers. Bastion stays in this position, shifting only to put room between their hips and his own, sliding their hand back in its rightful place against his posterior.

He reaches beneath himself, spreading his cheeks.

It seems Bastion has learned fast about bodily fluids drying up quickly, because they’ve forced two fingers inside of Reinhardt before he even has the time to take in a sharp breath.

And when he does, they’re already pulling out to the tips and then pushing back in.

He moans, arching his back and pressing his body closer to Bastion’s own.

“I have fantasized about this so often.” He admits, eyes squeezed closed and chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. His face burns hotter at Bastion’s curious noise, sounding so innocent out of context. “For so very long, I have ached to have someone equal to me in size and strength between my legs,” The two fingers part, scissoring inside of him and stretching him out. His growl grows high pitched at the end, hips twitching and struggling to press down against each thrust, to no avail. “-ah! Touch- touching me as you are. Pressing inside of me, f-…fucking me like you are.”

His anus has only just started to adjust to the size of Bastion’s two fingers when a third is being pushed in.

The hair at his abdomen is slicked down against his skin, soiled with the steady flow of pre-cum oozing from the slit of his cock. It pulses as a heavier stream starts, his own heartbeat deafening in his ears.

Saliva is not nearly as well functioning as lubricant made for this specific purpose, but Reinhardt finds he loves the burn of being stretched, the almost uncomfortable feeling that he knows will leave him aching and sore afterwards. The thought that he feels so full and stretched from just the robot’s fingers does things to him that has his mind and heart racing, erection flexing with the threat of an oncoming orgasm.

He had been blissed out with the feeling of being finger fucked, eyebrows drawn up and eyes lidded, lips parted as his breathing came in short sharp breaths. He looked as if he were in a whole other plane of existence, disconnected and not really seeing what was in front of him.

Bastion was reminded of those pretty little porcelain dolls with blushing cheeks and fluffy lashes that they had once seen on the screen of Hana’s laptop.

They hummed softly, affectionately, pressing the hull of their head against his forehead. He looks at them and they beep a few times, Reinhardt just barely grasping the meaning behind the noises.

They want for him to continue talking.

So he does, moistening his lips and shoving each word past quivering breaths.

“I do not know for how long, maybe too long, b-but I have yearned to feel another inside of me.” His nostrils flare as he grunts when the three fingers crook inside of him. “This is the first, the first time I have ever had anything push into me. I was too afraid to do it myself. B-But now, I- ah…! Bastion, I never want for this to stop.”

The fact that they are the first to help Reinhardt with his hesitance in letting something fuck him must get Bastion excited, because the fingers in his ass are pushing into him harder, faster. At first, Reinhardt mistakenly believes that he was cumming, his dick throbbing in time with his heart and slapping against his stomach with each pulse. But no, it’s just another heavy stream of pre-cum, driven on by the increase in pace he’s getting fucked at.

“Hah…! You are so large, and it is hyp-hypocritical, hypocritical for me to say this, but I can only- ah…-, imagine the proportions between y-your size and the size of your cock, if you had one.”

To imagine a cock so large, so thick, fucking into him. Now he has a face, a name, a body to imagine with that cock shoving into him, pummeling him into a submissive mess. He thinks about Bastion fucking him for real, taking him by the hips and watching him as they shove their meaty prick into his waiting hole, pulling him up and down on it by the hips.

He thinks about how that can be a reality, if he stuck his suction cup base dildo onto the robot’s middle.

It would be so easy, he now knows just how eager Bastion would be to watch him react to having something so big and long inside of him, forcing desperate noises out of him and coloring him red all over with lust and bliss. For them to be in control of it, to know they’re causing this pleasure for Reinhardt, for him to know they’d do it just for him and would enjoy doing it.

He can only imagine, what if that toy could fill him to the brim with semen while he makes Bastion fuck him with it.

He doesn’t even know he’s babbling all of this out loud, making the bastion unit readily look around for the toy he speaks of, but he becomes hyperaware of everything when Bastion manages to press against _something_. Something that burns pleasure into every recess of his mind and has him crying out and scrambling his fingers against his ass cheeks.

“Yes! Right there. Right there, I’m-! Oh. Oh!” Bastion rips their gaze away from his room and pours all of their attention on him, and he feels like he heard the whirr of a camera lens zooming in when the bot stares him down so intensely, flicking between looking at how his stomach is convulsing now, the way his cock cannot rest still, and the desperation in his expression.

It takes Bastion a few tries, but then they have their fingers lined up with that spot that makes the elder howl, and then they’re driving into it with powerful jack-rabbit thrusts of their finger, robbing Reinhardt of his breath.

“Yes, fuck me! Oh Gott, Fick mich härter, Ich komme. I’m-! I-! Mm!” He ends his cries with little more breath to gasp out his words at a whispering volume, making the robot strain to hear him. He doesn’t know when they moved their other arm, but he feels the barrel of Bastion’s gun against his cock, pressing it against his weeping head. He looks down, watching the warfare bot’s gun press and stroke against his firey red cock, and then he sees Bastion watching him and he feels as if the force of his orgasm has physically and brutally hit him.

He goes utterly and completely still for all of three seconds before he’s quivering and writhing underneath Bastion, sobbing in relief as his cum coats his own chest, even managing to land on his chin and cheeks with how close his dick is to his face. The walls of his rectum squeeze repeatedly around Bastion’s fingers, ripping another desperate sob and a pleading series of ‘yes’s from him when steel fingers spread against those fluttering convulsions of the ringed muscle.

He wants to cry with overstimulation when Bastion doesn’t stop fucking their fingers with pinpoint accuracy against his prostate, holding his legs still against his body with their own weight when he tries to squirm away and rid himself of the overwhelming pleasure, pressing his hands against Bastion’s thick shoulders.

“P-Please, I’m, ah! I-!” His throat is hoarse, voice strained and out of breath. “I’m finished, no more! Too much!”

Bastion stops, but not as Reinhardt had asked of them. Their fingers are still buried deep within him, pressed snuggly against that lump of nerves as if there was no better place for their fingers to be in this moment.

Reinhardt is a mess, sweat making the sheets below him stick uncomfortably to his skin, uncertain and panicked laughter joining his weak moans and groans when he tries to shove Bastion’s hand out of him.

“Hah! Ah, Bastion! Aha, too-! Too much, oh God!” Cum dribbles weakly from his spent cock, forced to stay hard against the bastion unit’s relentless stimulation.

It takes a few minutes of begging and eventually losing his voice to quick desperate gasping breaths before Bastion begins to slowly slide their fingers out from the man's puffy red hole. They’re even slower pulling themselves away from the weakened man, letting him unfold carefully, smearing various fluids on the man’s lower calve as they massage his now outstretched legs, resting them on their hips.

Reinhardt tries to think of what to say, if whether he should thank Bastion or ask them if they enjoyed this and if they’d like to do it again some other time. But with that warm metal hand rubbing his aching leg and the unusually loud thrum of Bastion’s generator soothing him, Reinhardt quickly finds himself falling asleep.

He falls asleep as he had woken up, with Bastion’s hand against his inner thighs, stroking and petting him.

**Author's Note:**

> and then bastion joined rein in bed and lit a cigarette and texted hana about how they just finger fucked reinhardt to death. i love submissive anal slut tough-guy men, okay. in size or personality. especially when they like taking it from women, or in this case, robots. 
> 
> i.....still need to learn how to write porn......forgive me


End file.
